Solangelo Oneshots

SIXTEEN

   Percabeth, I apologize for being a sap beforehand.
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    Percy Jackson thought that hope was overrated. If you couldn't guarantee that you would live until the next day then what was the point in anything? What was the point in having hope? Percy had never thought that one day he would grow old and sit on the porch of his house, rocking back and forth in a chair while watching his grandchildren play in the front yard.

  Until, of course, it became a reality.

  Percy did grow old, he hadn't hoped for it but he did. He got to see Annabeth sitting next to him on the front porch, grey hair to match her grey eyes. He got to watch her grow with him into something more powerful and beautiful than the gods themselves. Percy got to watch his empty front yard peacefully without monsters running around wreaking havoc.

   Annabeth never wanted kids. Percy didn't either. Because even though he'd grown old with Annabeth, even though they were safe here .. he couldn't bear the thought of his children going through what they, as demigods, had to.

  He didn't want his children to go to Camp only to go on a quest where they had to fight monsters twice their size without any training, nor did he want them to lose their loved ones at an early age. He didn't want them to go through hell and back.

  Neither did Annabeth.

  It wasn't like they didn't get to raise children, though. The responsibility of Zoë, Percy's little sister, had always kept them busy. She was a normal kid with a normal life who didn't know anything about Percy and Annabeth's world. Everyone was okay with that. After Sally died, Paul took over Zoë and took her somewhere else in the world. He couldn't bear staying where Sally's presence still lingered.

  The last time Percy had seen her was when she had just turned 19. It was hard sometimes.

  Here they were now, two halves of a whole, the greatest combat partners Camp Half-Blood had ever seen, the famous prophesied heroes of Olympus, or, as he liked to call them, Percy and Annabeth. On the porch with smiles on their faces, hands linked together as Percy rested his head on Annabeth's shoulder.

   "It's good." Was all Annabeth said.

  Percy smiled, even after all these years, even now when they were 72, relief still flooded through him every time he thought about how he was actually safe somewhere. He'd gotten the life he wanted, sure it wasn't perfect but it was a life.

  "It is."